


A Slav for Love

by spiftynifty



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, First Kiss, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Sheith Big Meme 2019, Slow Burn, and something I'll tag later, love potion allusions, s8 events didn't really happen but they won the war, this fic is quality cursed content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiftynifty/pseuds/spiftynifty
Summary: The war is over and Shiro and Keith still haven't told each other how they feel yet. Can an unexpected attack and a long-detested foe help them find their way to each other?





	A Slav for Love

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for the Big Sheith Meme on twitter, where artists wrote and writers drew! This is the first thing I've written in 15 yrs and it's longer and more soft and cursed than it has any right to be. 
> 
> My lovely artists for this were [Foxy](https://twitter.com/FoxyLovesFandom) and [Cas](https://twitter.com/Castellation_) who have both drawn awesome art for it!
> 
> Hope you enjoy the ride.

 

“As far as missions go, this has perhaps been our easiest one yet.” Allura reports through the data pad.  
  
  
“That’s great,” replies Shiro. He slides the datapad over so that Keith, standing dutifully by his side, can share the screen.

  
It’s been a few months since the war with the Galra finally ended and the final battle with Honerva was won. The Paladins had enjoyed being back on Earth for a time, helping rebuild a planet badly damaged by Sendak’s Galra fleet and helping ease the transition of that planet into being a primary hub for the Universal Coalition.

  
The team had begun their journey as young men and women and returned as heroes, a title none of them had asked for or particularly enjoyed carrying around with them. The Garrison had been very generous in their offers of rewards for their heroics, but the Paladins craved something simpler and more altruistic: a chance to return to the stars and be helpful to the planets who needed it the most. When Shiro was offered the keys to the Atlas and a permanent title as its Admiral, it hadn’t taken any effort to convince Keith or the others to join him.

  
Though usually they run missions together, it isn’t uncommon for the Voltron family to split off in small groups for shorter missions. Allura and Lance are out on what was meant to be a short diplomatic meeting with the leaders of Faneli. The “short meeting” had sprawled into “days” and Keith suspects it’s because Lance and Allura are trying to enjoy some much needed alone time together.

  
“The Fanelian Queen was very welcoming to us; it seems she’s rather fond of Altean history.” Allura is telling them.

  
“Or maybe she’s just fond of _you_ ,” calls Lance somewhere offscreen. He quickly appears, pressing a dramatic kiss into her cheek. “But who wouldn’t be?”

  
Keith feigns disgust. “Get a room, you two.”

  
“This was supposed to be a diplomatic tour, not a honeymoon,” Shiro adds with a chuckle..

  
“Aren’t you one to talk,” muses Allura with a sly raise of her brow. Keith isn’t sure which of them she’s talking to. It’s definitely him. It could be Shiro. It might be both of them. Shiro is trying to stammer something out in retort and Keith doesn’t miss the way his ears redden to match the way his own are burning.

  
Keith hasn’t told him his feelings yet, even though he’s begun to wonder if might not be alone in them. It feels like they’re circling something and the circle keeps shrinking through casual touches and warm smiles that burn. During the war it was never the right time to say anything, no matter how often Keith’s love for Shiro had saved both of their lives. When the war was over they always seemed too bombarded with diplomacy or meetings or events held in their honor. It’s become second nature for Keith to kick the confession can down the road, easy to come up with a hundred false excuses not to do it. The timing is just never right, even when the timing could never be more perfect than sitting on your dad’s old shack with a couple of beers, watching the stars with the man you’re secretly in love with, and feeling the heaviness of his warm hand on your shoulder as he asks you if you’d like to revisit the stars with him, together, a team again. The timing is just never right when you’re terrified, and for all the foes he’s faced Keith has never been more terrified than he is of Shiro gently pushing him away.

  
“They’re holding a celebration for the ‘Defenders of the Universe’ in a few quintants,” Allura offers as a merciful change of topic before the blush in Shiro’s ears can spread to the rest of him. “Pidge and Hunk are meeting us there after they’re finished helping on New Olkarion. You should join us too.”

  
“We’ll try,” assures Shiro, straightening himself up as the flush fades out. “We’re headed to Bazram to gather supplies and then Zaibach to drop off supplies. We can touch base again after that.”

  
“Later buds!” shouts Lance.

  
“Goodbye you two,” Allura half-giggles as she playfully bats away Lance who’s nuzzling into her neck. “Oh and Shiro, be mindful of the superstition the Basram place on scheduling. If you’ve agreed to arrive at a certain time, don’t be late or they will see it as a bad omen and might not be so eager to see you.”

 

\--

“ _They’re_ certainly happy,” Shiro laughs as he and Keith make their way down the hall. It feels like Shiro is leading to something so Keith waits. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Shiro opens his mouth as if to speak, before apparently deciding against it.

  
“We almost lost her,” Keith reminds him.  “If we hadn’t come up with a better plan, we would have. When you come so close to losing someone you love, it’s only natural to be that kind of happy, isn’t it?”

  
Shiro pauses outside the doors to the bridge and his hand gently finds its home on Keith’s shoulder, where it’s been landing and lingering more often than usual. “You seem happy too, lately.”

There’s a weight to the words that matches the one on his shoulder, and a question in Shiro’s eyes that Keith’s still too afraid to ask. He smiles softly at it, at Shiro. “It’s good to be back in space, without having to fight a war,” he replies, and wonders if Shiro knows that what he actually means is, “It’s good to be back, with you by my side”.

Shiro smiles and his hand drifts off Keith’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he agrees, and Keith feels the moment fade back into the safe zone of platonic camaraderie. “It’s good to be back.”

 

On the bridge, Shiro takes his place at the Admiral’s station and Keith takes his place at his right, surveying the room. When Shiro was named Admiral and was properly gifted the reins to the Atlas, most of the ship’s original crew were asked if they’d like to reboard for a one year post-war effort journey. Many said yes, including the entire bridge crew save for one man Keith had never really spoken to --Christopher? Carmelo?-- who stepped down from his position after getting married in a shotgun wedding that had likely surprised anyone who knew him. Had to find his happiness, he explained. Keith couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at that. Amidst the chaos of the battles against Honerva and the Altean, he noticed the man sending out signals to Shiro. If Shiro hadn’t stayed steadfastly by Keith’s side until the end, Keith might have been more worried about it.  
 

“Good morning everyone,” Shiro greets. “We’re heading to Bazram today; we’ve made the arrangements with their leader to arrive at 84:32 Bazram time and it’s imperative that we aren’t late as I’ve learned they are a superstitious people who prioritize keeping appointments. They’re a powerful ally but more importantly, they’ve offered to supply us with a decent amount of a rare ore to help with repairs on Zaibach, which should also help repair the relationship between the two planets.”  
 

“Aye aye, Captain,” Veronica replies.  
 

“ _Admiral_ ,” Keith corrects automatically, and his stomach does a half-flip at the pink that blooms across Shiro’s cheeks at the title. For all the power he commands at his fingertips and radiates just by his very presence, it’s easy to fluster him with a well-placed word. Keith tries very hard not to think of other ways or words that could accomplish the same thing. He wonders how badly it’s showing on his face, the way Shiro is eying him like he’s putting the pieces together and tucking it away for later use or retaliation and oh Keith can’t think about _that--  
_ 

“Bazram here we come!” yodels Coran.  
 

“STOP!!” cries a voice from behind them. “We absolutely cannot go to Bazram today!” Keith feels his blood run cold and Shiro’s expression shutters as he slowly turns around to face his greatest foe.  
  
  
It’d been a point of contention from the moment Shiro suggested returning to the Atlas to carry  out peace work and diplomatic missions. The entire original crew had been made offers to return but Shiro had made a compelling case to Sam not to include Slav on the list. Hunk even helped him work out every point ahead of time, though each one simply boiled down to a well decorated argument of “I don’t like him”. Shiro’s arguments fell on deaf ears, with Sam “cruelly” (Shiro’s words) offering Shiro the same ultimatum he had once told Sanda. Sam was a packaged deal, and if Slav wasn’t invited, neither was Sam. Slav was too integral to the team, and Shiro would just have to learn to get along with him. The compromise was that Slav was not allowed on the bridge, at any time, for any reason.  
 

A compromise Slav is currently breaking rather aggressively.  
 

“Sam just ate a Fubar sandwich in TEN bites instead of eleven, which means this is the reality where going to Bazram first instead of Zaibach will cause unparalleled disaster!” Slav shouts scurrying closer to Shiro.  
 

Shiro’s lips tighten as he feigns a smile that looks more like a horrifying grimace, his patience already worn thin by the 10 seconds that have passed since Slav’s arrival. “Slav,” he says, as though the very word is being dragged out of him against his will. “I thought we had been over this. We _can’t_ go to Zaibach first. Bazram has the supplies we need. Furthermore, we’ve got a scheduled arrival time that we can’t miss. They’d see it as a sign of bad luck and bar us entry.”  
 

“Bah! There is no such thing as bad luck. There is always a series of things that indicate an outcome will be bad and most simply choose to ignore them. _Especially_ humans.”

   
“I appreciate your input, however, as the Admiral of this ship I would remind you that it is my decision. In addition, as we’ve discussed, the terms of your contract are that you are never to be on the bridg--”

   
“Nevermind all that!” Slav shoves Shiro aside in his haste to get to the command panel and begins rapidly punching in information in the screen as Keith and the crew look on horrified at his blatant disregard for Shiro’s things. There is no reality in which this ends well for Slav. “You’re not paying attention, look at these maps. The path to Zaibach has an aggressive asteroid belt. The path to Bazram has nothing.”

   
“Exactly!” Shiro says, trying to hide the rising terseness of his voice. “Nothing!”

  
“Exactly!” Slav bites back. “It’s suspicious!”

   
“Gentlemen,” calls a voice from the front. “We’ve got a--”

   
“I am not arguing with you anymore Slav.” snaps Shiro, typing on the screen to try and undo the typing Slav is still doing.  “We are going to Baz--”

   
“You humans never pay attention to what’s right in front of you, I have already explained the dire situation of Holt’s number of sandwich bites, if he had eaten the proper amount then of _course_ Bazram would be the obvio--”

“Sir, there’s a strange--!”

   
“We are going to respect the people of Bazram and their schedu--”

   
“ADMIRAL.” Veronica booms.

  
Keith jerks his head towards the front at the sound of panic in her voice. A dark shadow creeps slowly up the bridge floor. Shiro and Slav stop bickering long enough to turn around at the fading light. At the front of the ship is a giant green blobular mass, just hovering.

   
“What _is_ that?” Keith whispers.

   
“I told you ‘nothing’ was suspicious!” Slav hisses at Shiro, who looks murderous.

   
“I’ll send out a tracking device so we can get a reading on it.” Coran says, and pushes a button. A small tube appears at the front of the ship and fires a tiny reader into the creature’s side. The creature reacts with a sound akin to a mix of a t-rex roar and nails scraping against a blackboard and the crew ducks their head in pain. Suddenly, a large pink beam fires out of the creature’s mouth through the bridge, narrowly missing Keith and directly striking the centre console and lighting it up with pink electricity. The energy radiates through Shiro and Slav who cry out in pain. Keith feels like he’s moving in slow motion, reaching out for Shiro-- and then just as suddenly as it appeared, the pink energy, and the creature, are gone.

   
Keith races to Shiro’s side. He presses his ear to his chest and can make out a heartbeat, and can hear his steady breathing. He’s unconscious, but alive. _Alive_. The crew is crowding around them before Iverson steps in to encourage them to give them breathing room. “Get a medic,” he calls to someone, but it all sounds so far away. “No broken bones, and his head seems fine. Medics are on their way.” one of the crew comments after scanning him with a device. Keith didn’t even notice. His focus is narrowed to Shiro and only Shiro, the only thing that matters to him right now. He’s saved him from death too many times for him to be done in by a weird green blob.

  
Gently he scoops him up into his arms like he had once before when he thought he had lost him. He cradles his head close to him. “Stay with me, Shiro,” he begs. “Please.”

  
As if on cue, Shiro’s eyes suddenly shoot open and he inhales loudly like he can’t get enough air, then coughs from inhaling too much. Keith rubs his back affectionately and presses his brow to Shiro’s. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. “I got you. You’re okay.”

  
Shiro blinks up at him blearily. His eyes widen and he jerks his head back. “What? What happened--Where am I?”

   
Keith adjusts to help Shiro sit up. “You’re on the Atlas bridge. You got hit by the beam of an alien creature.”

   
Shiro looks down at himself, patting himself down in inspection.

   
“Don’t worry, you seem to be all there and I don’t think you’re going to sprout tentacles or anything,” Keith attempts, trying to appeal to Shiro’s more morbid sense of humor. It doesn’t work it seems, as Shiro is just looking at him with baffled horror. “--but just in case, the medics are here to take you back to the medbay and run some tests to make sure.”

   
Shiro looks even more panicked at that. “No, no medics!” he insists hysterically. “I’m sure it was nothing, I’m just a little disoriented…” Of course, Keith realizes. After all the times he’s been experimented on, the idea of being stuck in a gurney again must be his worst nightmare, especially when the medics wear strikingly similar gear to the ones that strapped him down when he first crash landed on earth.

   
He nods to the head medic. “I’ll keep him under supervision,” he assures her. “If anything weird happens I’ll bring him by.” She looks unconvinced by the statement but equally unwilling to debate things with an overly protective Black Paladin.

   
“Shall we take just Slav down then?” she asks.

   
“Slav?” Shiro asks. He turns to Keith in a panic, gripping his shoulder frantically. “Slav got hit too? Why didn’t you say anything??”

   
“Honestly… I didn’t think you’d care,” Keith replies, brows furrowed in confusion.

  
“Of course I care,” Shiro snaps, wrestling himself from what remains of Keith’s embrace. He spots Slav unconscious on a stretcher held by two of the medics and scrambles to his feet. He very nearly falls over, still a little wobbly from the incident, but Keith is there to catch him. Shiro bats away his hands and approaches the stretcher.

   
“Will he be alright?” he asks the nearest medic.

  
The two medics exchange a glance. Shiro’s dislike of Slav is legendary. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, sir,” one of them offers. “I mean, you’re up and about, aren’t you?”

   
“Good good,” replies Shiro, like he didn’t hear them. “He’s an integral part of this crew and I would be terribly upset if something were to happen to him.” He’s gazing down at Slav now, like he’s precious. Keith’s mind is reeling as he watches Shiro reach out a hand and carefully stroke his knuckles down Slav’s cheek.

   
One of the medics coughs. “We should, um, get him to the med bay.”

   
Reluctantly Shiro steps back to allow the medics to carry him off the bridge. “Please take good care of him!” he calls after the medics, who exchange another look. “And watch his head! It’s so very important.” He turns, still a little shake, and hobbles over to the console. He stretches out his hand, flexing the right one to make sure the mechanics of it are still in good working over, and taps a few things onto the screen.

   
“So… Bazram, sir?” asks Veronica hesitantly.

   
“No,” says Shiro, casting a glance back at the bridge doors. “Slav was right, I should have seen it the first time. His calculations are always so accurate, and it was my mistake to ever doubt what that brilliant mind was saying. Let’s head to Zaibach first; Bazram can wait.”

   
“Are you sure, Admiral?”

   
“Absolutely.” he flattens his palms against his shirt to smooth it out and smiles to himself like he’s laughing at a private joke, or a fond memory.

   
“Shiro,” Keith says, his voice weak as he tries to process everything that’s just happened. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go to the med bay after all, you’re not acting like yourself.”

   
Shiro’s eyes feel cold and distant on him. “I feel fine.” He turns back to the console as though he’s absorbed in it and not trying to find an excuse not to talk to Keith.

   
Keith feels numbs as he tries to process everything that he’s just witnessed. This can’t be real, this can’t be happening. He feels his stomach churn in a horrifying mix of confusion and jealousy. Heading to Bazram did present the worst possible reality. Shiro was looking at Slav with unbridled tenderness. Shiro was looking at Slav the way he used to look at Keith.

 

-

   
“Run the tests again,” Keith glares at his datapad. “You had to have missed something.”

   
“We did,” sighs the medic. She glances at her clipboard “Five times. There’s nothing here, all of his vitals are completely normal. All we discovered is that Slav is allergic to vegetables in the nightshade family.”

   
Keith huffs a bitter laugh. “Guess he and Shiro have something in common after all. Please call me if Slav wakes up, maybe he can be helpful.”

   
“Yes sir.”

   
Keith bangs his head back against the wall he’s slumped against in the hallway. None of this makes any sense.

 

-

He’s bracing himself for this new, Slav-smitten, aloof Shiro when he enters the bridge but that’s not what greets him.

  
“You’re back,” exclaims Shiro from the console, smiling broadly. The tilted axis Keith’s world has been living on for the past couple hours rights itself a little. Maybe it really was just a case of temporary insanity. Maybe this was scare is what Keith needed to finally face his fears.

   
Shiro approaches him. “I apologize for my behavior earlier. It’s good you’re back.”

   
The familiar words curl around Keith’s heart, melting the ice wall that he’d built around it to protect him from the unthinkable thought of Shiro trying to woo the little green alien. “It’s good to be back. So, you’re feeling better?”

   
“Yes. I’m not sure what came over me. I must have hit my head in the fall.”

   
“I’m really, really glad.” Keith smiles at him and reaches out, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. He hopes Shiro understands the gesture, and holds his gaze. Shiro looks surprised for a moment but slowly he raises his Altean arm and places it on Keith’s shoulder. It’s not as warm as his other hand, but Keith will take it. The memory of Shiro looking at Slav begins to feel like an absurd fever dream as the air between himself and Shiro clears itself, and maybe begins to twist to something more.

   
A noise distracts Shiro for a moment and turns out of the shoulder hold to look at the source, puzzled.

   
“It’s just the 53rd turbine again, Shiro.” 

   
Shiro turns to look back at him and Keith feels his breath leave his body. Shiro is staring at him-- at least, Keith thinks it must be him, the chair behind him has been empty since Colin left the battle behind for a slapdash wedding-- with a deep, pensive expression on his face. He’s staring at Keith, and slowly running the tip of his tongue along his top lip, and then swiping it across his bottom. Keith can’t help but follow the action with his eyes.  He feels his cheeks heat and his chest bloom with hope and still he fumbles with excuses for why Shiro could be doing this, other than the obvious of attempting to outrageously seduce him from a few feet away with only his mouth and--

 --and then Shiro begins to chew lightly on his bottom lip and all of Keith’s carefully laid plan to put off a confession get nicely blown to smithereens. Keith marches swiftly up to him and catches his hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. “Come with me,” he says in a low voice.

“Wha--” Shiro begins but Keith is yanking him through the bridge doors and down the hallway before he can finish his sentence. Keith glances around furtively, ensuring they don’t have an audience, and then tugs them both into an empty broom closet.  
 

“Shiro,” Keith begins, half-breathless with excitement and adrenaline, trying to figure out how to do this. For all the planning he’s done to postpone conversation and his likely rejection, he hasn’t given much thought to how he would word it once they finally got here and there was a possibility that Shiro felt the same. He opts for the explicit, direct approach.

“Shiro,” he repeats. “Are you--have you been feeling the things that I have been feeling, about everything?”

Shiro stares at him blankly for a moment. “Everything?” he echoes.  
 

“Yes. You know. About… this. I’ve been feeling it for some time.”  
 

Suddenly Shiro lights up. “Yes!” he says confidently. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”  
 

Relief and elation and disbelief spread through Keith like wildfire and he does the only thing that seems natural in that moment. He surges up on the balls of his feet and presses his lips firmly to Shiro’s. They stumble backwards a little, Shiro’s back hitting the wall behind him. He lets out a small “oh” and Keith backs off immediately, thinking he must have misunderstood everything, but Shiro follows him and starts smushing his nose against Keith’s, nuzzling it fiercely. Keith leans forward to capture Shiro’s lips again but finds Shiro’s mouth already wide open, which sends a thrill down Keith’s spine. He’s never kissed anyone before but thanks to movies he knows what an open mouth means so he goes for it. Shiro’s tongue is already poking out and making strangle curling motion and Keith makes a few attempts at different angles so he can try to meet his lips. Instead Shiro’s tongue ends up swiping at Keith’s cupid’s bow, smears against the area above his chin, before finally Keith is able to slot their mouths together. Their tongue tips touch briefly and then dart around each other like a game of cat-and-mouse, and Shiro sound that sounds somewhere between a neigh and a snort. Their teeth keep clacking together and there’s drool everywhere.  
  
But because it’s them, it’s perfect.

Keith is in the middle of tugging on Shiro’s collar to bring him somehow closer, though that seems physically impossible, when suddenly the room flashes red and an alarm blares. Keith extracts himself from where Shiro is gnawing lightly on the ball of his chin and grins bashfully. He pats down Shiro’s floof, swipes the spit from under his chin, straightens his collar. “They’re playing our song,” he says, the cheesy line a product of having finally kissed the man of his dreams. “Let’s get back.”

 

Keith is first on the bridge and is met with a sight that makes his stomach sink. Jajukas, nasty little aliens that feed on light energy. There must hundreds of them, some of them beginning to attack the Atlas shield. But that’s not what gives Keith pause. Dead ahead and all around them, asteroids, too plentiful and dangerous to properly navigate through with any speed to escape their alien attackers.

   
“What’s going on?” Keith demands, half to the crew and half to Shiro trailed behind him. He spins around. “I thought you said you were feeling better!”

   
“I am.” Shiro replies, baffled by Keith’s outburst.

   
“Then why are we in the middle of the asteroid belt around Zaibach?”

   
“Sir, what should we do?” asks Veronica. “The creatures have begun to attack our shields”

   
“I…” Shiro looks suddenly ashen, glued to the floor a few feet from the console. Sweat is beginning to bead on his forehead. “I…”

“Your orders, sir, the asteroids are getting closer!”

   
“They’re jajukas.” Keith answers for Shiro. “They’re attracted to light, kill all the lights and screens and they’ll get bored and go away.” Immediately the crew does as they are told and the room is engulfed in darkness and silence.  
 

Keith turns to Shiro, his previous anger giving way to concern. “Are you okay?”

Shiro tugs at his collar and begins to wobble. “I…” and then he promptly passes out.

   
Keith catches him before he hits the ground. He looks outside to see the jajukas slowly losing interest in the ship and gliding away into the darkness of space.

   
“We encountered them once when we were fighting the Galra. Shiro should have remembered that,” Keith says quietly, more to himself than anyone, feeling the cold dread creep down his spine. “I’m taking him to the med bay. Chart a course back to Bazram.”

 

-

When the lights come back a few minutes later Shiro looks weaker and paler than he had on the bridge. Keith has gotten him into a bed in the med bay, a few cots down from Slav’s. He tells himself it’s because Slav is the last thing Shiro will want to see when he comes to, but the truth is that he’s more concerned that he’ll be the first. He thought Shiro had made a full recovery on the Slav front, and if the heartfelt mutual shoulder touching on the bridge hadn’t cinched that, the heartfelt mutual tongue battle in the broom closet certainly had. But Shiro, the Shiro he knew, would never have headed for Zaibach on Slav’s recommendation. It’s confusing but he hopes the tests he let the medics run while Shiro was unconscious will shed some light on everything, even if Slav’s results didn’t. Keith curls a hand around Shiro’s and presses his lips against the knuckles. “We’ll figure it out together,” he promises softly. “I’ll always be here for you, Shiro. I love you.” He presses another kiss against his knuckles, then another to his forehead.

“ _Keith??_ ” comes a shocked voice. Keith looks up to see Slav, sitting bolted upright in his cot. Keith forgot he was there at all, and hearing him call him by his name instead of just “Paladin” is startling to say the least.

   
“You’re finally awake,” Keith observes.

   
“What’s going on here?” Slav demands, eyes darting frantically between Shiro and Keith.

   
“You and Shiro were hit by a beam from a giant green creature. The medics are looking into it.” he pauses. Slav doesn’t look like he’s paying attention; he’s too busy staring past Keith at Shiro. Keith feels a flutter of hope. “One of the potential side effects is feeling love towards someone… unexpected. So if you’re feeling something for Shiro--”

   
“ _Keith_ ,” Slav admonishes. “I’m not in love with Shiro. I _am_ Shiro.”

   
Keith frowns at him over the steady rise and fall of Shiro’s massive chest. “You’ve got a weird sense of humor, Slav.”

“I know it must sounds nuts. Of all the bodies to get stuck in it had to be this one. I’m living in a nightmare; literally!” When Keith’s skeptical stare continues, Slav tries again. “Look into my eyes, I know that you’ll see the truth.”

Keith sighs loudly and casts one last lingering glance at Shiro before he drags a chair over to Slav’s bedside. Slav shifts a little, getting into prime position, rolling his arms and clearing his throat. Keith waits in the chair impatiently before suddenly Slav turns and stares into his eyes imploringly. Keith holds his gaze without blinking, trying to see past Slav’s beady pupils into the soul of the man he loves.

He sees nothing.

“Is it working?” asks Slav hopefully.

   
“This is ridiculous.” snorts Keith. He shoves the chair back and stands.

   
“In senior year at the Garrison I invited you over to study for an exam and we ended up drinking too much beer and you serenaded me with an old pop song and it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

   
Keith feels his knees give out and he collapses in the chair as he realizes two very crucial things: one, that he is in fact staring into the eyes of Takashi Shirogane, and two, that said Takashi Shirogane fully remembers the time Keith had drunkenly tried to seduce a post-breakup Shiro with the help of Alicia Keys.

   
“Shiro,” he whispers. “it _is_ you.”

   
Shiro leans forward to nudge his forehead against Keith’s. “You found me. Again.” He leans back. “I understand why you didn’t recognize me. I went from having just one arm to more than I know what to do with.” The humor startles a laugh out of Keith before he sobers.  
  
“You weren’t supposed to remember that night at the Garrison. You _said_ you didn’t remember that.”

“I don’t know,” Slav--Shiro--says, eyes soft as he nods at the Shiro on the bed across the room. “It seems to have worked pretty well for you.”

Keith’s cheeks bloom with color. Shiro’s do too, which is a weird sight to see on Slav’s face, a more greenish color than pink, but the expression is so utterly Shiro that Keith wonders how he wasn’t able to see it during their stare off.

“Keith, I…” Shiro starts to say, then shakes his head to give himself more courage. “There are things I want to say. To you. Things I’ve been meaning to say for a long time now, I was just…”  
 

“...waiting for the right moment?” Keith finishes for him, smiling shyly. “I think I know the feeling.” He gets up and sits down next to Shiro on the bed and reaches hesitantly for one of Shiro’s hands. Shiro blinks at him in surprise and his blush darkens. He curls a tiny hand around two of Keith’s fingers. If he had lips Keith is certain Shiro would be grinning that windswept smile of his.  
 

Wait. If he had _lips..._  
 

“Now might not be the right moment, either, given my current state.” Shiro is saying.

Keith isn’t paying much attention, too focused on the slowly dawning horror of the truth that, in hindsight, really should have been obvious. If Shiro is in Slav’s body, it stands to reason that Slav… is in…

   
He feels ice fill his veins and travel down his spine. Distantly he can hear Shiro talking, and he desperately wants to listen, wants to cling to every word like a lifeline now that he can rest easy knowing that Shiro is here and real and not in love with Slav. Instead all he can think about is his recent visit to the broom closet with an all-too-willing participant. He tries to smile politely at whatever Shiro is saying and not let the existential crisis he’s currently having show too much on his face.

   
“So… could you?” asks Shiro, looking up at him. Keith waits, hoping his silence will prompt a little more information on the topic he clearly missed while feeling his soul leave his body. It works. “Could you still feel the same about me, if I can’t get my body back and look like this… forever?”

   
Keith ponders this. He loves Shiro, no matter what he looks like, and that will never change. He fell in love with him for his kindness, his patience, his wry sense of humor, the way he listens and the way he gazes at the stars with adventure in his eyes. But he’d be lying if he said Shiro’s Dorito-like natural state didn’t contribute to his attraction. He looks at him now and takes it in. The wide, beady eyes, the lithe body, the skinny arms with hands that Keith’s own dwarf by several times. Shiro is committed to physical fitness and would certainly end up with a more muscular shape if he’s trapped in this body forever. How many arms does Slav have, six? That means four more muscular pecs than Keith is used to. But he’d never feel the same warm weight of Shiro’s large hand on his shoulder again, would have to grow accustomed to a small weight not unlike a doll’s. He’d be happy to be the one giving the shoulder pats instead of receiving, but Slav’s body doesn’t seem to have them at all. Kissing without lips seems out of the question but he doesn’t want to dwell too much on that as his stomach turns at the memory of a kiss he’d die before he let Shiro find out about. Love Shiro? Always. Still be attracted to him?

   
_Probably not,_ thinks Keith.

   
“Of course.” says Keith. His fingers curl tighter around Shiro’s tiny, tiny hand. “We’ll figure this out together.”

   
“Hey,” says Shiro, his eyes squinting at something on Keith's face. “Why is your chin all red?”

   
Perfectly on cue as if written in fanfiction, Keith’s datapad buzzes in his pocket.

   
“Keith, that creature from earlier is back,” Coran says from the vidchat window. “What do you want us to do?”

“Pull us in close, Coran. We’re coming back up to the bridge.” he jumps to his feet and helps Shiro to his. “If we get the creature to blast you and Slav again, maybe you’ll change back.”

   
“What do you mean, change--” Shiro looks at his body on the cot and shows the same horror Keith experienced moments ago. “He can’t-- that--” he stutters. Keith’s relieved to see he’s not the only one who’s been slow on the uptake about this situation.

   
Slav’s still out cold, so Keith tucks his arms under him and scoops him up in a bridal style carry. Shiro watches him with awe. “You’re strong,” he comments mildly, but the red reaching his large ears betray him. Keith cradles Slav’s Shiro body closer. A beat passes as they walk down the hall before Shiro comments to himself, “This is really, really weird.”

 

When they arrive at the bridge, the creature is already there, simply drifting in front of the ship. Keith deposits Slav in front of the console, next to Shiro. The crew is gawking at the trio, awaiting explanation.

   
“The blast from that thing made Slav and I swap places.” Shiro tells them. “I think if we provoke it, we might be able to get it to hit us again and switch back.”

   
“Or you’ll be blown to bits!” exclaims a panicked Coran.

   
“It’s a risk I’m more than willing to take.” Shiro assures him, placing a hand on the console. “Don’t worry, if anything should happen to me, Keith will take over and you couldn’t ask for a better captain.”

   
“Nothing is gonna happen to you,” Keith murmurs softly. He strokes Shiro’s cheek and finds himself enjoying the velvety feel of it. Maybe there’s hope for them, yet, if this plan doesn’t work. He presses Slav’s hand against the console, then lays Shiro’s over it to keep it in place. Shiro nods at Iverson. “Hit it with the tracking device, like last time.”

   
Keith steps back. “See you soon,” he says.

   
Iverson hits the button and the creature cries out, engulfing the bridge in brilliant pink light.

 

 

They come to much faster this time. Immediately, in fact. Shiro stands first, a little wobbly on his feet, and like before and always, Keith is there to catch him. He and the crew wait with baited breath. Shiro inhales, and--

   
“Seeee?” an irritated voice behind them interrupts. “This is what happens when you don’t listen to me. Total catastrophe.” Slav crosses his many arms.

   
“Please, Slav.” Shiro sighs with exhaustion and turns to him, still loosely held in Keith’s embrace. “Please just… get off the bridge. It’s been a long day for both of us.”

   
Slav grunts at him but nevertheless turns and heads towards the bridge doors.

   
“Slav,” Keith catches up to him, ensuring they’re just out of earshot before dropping his voice to a low whisper. “About earlier. I’m not sure why you did it, but I hope you realize it was a misunderstanding. I’m sure I can trust you to keep my confidence.”

   
“You humans are so conservative when it comes to such matters!” Slav scoffs loudly, to Keith’s horror. “I regarded our encounter as an excellent scientific opportunity. We quarrlins don’t have lips you know.”

   
Keith is almost too lost to the mortification to notice the dark shadow that falls over them both.

   
“Slav,” says Shiro in a deep voice that Keith has only ever heard one other time, and he’s not sure if the shiver that runs down his spine is the good or the bad kind. Shiro is standing unnaturally still behind them, his face expressionless save for his eyes which scream murder. He takes a step closer to Slav. “Get the hell off of my bridge.”

 

  
Slav’s eyes widen, sweat beads his fuzzy brow, and in an instant, he is out the doors and through the hallway. The murderous expression on Shiro’s face vanishes with the alien’s departure, and the tender expression he gives Keith feels like coming home.

   
“It’s good to be back,” Shiro says as he reaches for Keith’s hands to tug him into a tight hug. Keith noses his face into Shiro’s neck to hide the tears he can feel brimming in his eyes.

   
“Good to have you back.”  
  
  
They stay like that for a long moment before Shiro shifts in his arms just enough to meet his gaze. He glances down at Keith’s lips then back up, asking the question with his eyes. Keith breathes out a smile and nods softly, leaning forward. There are no fireworks or angelic choir, just the whooping of excited crewmembers Keith had long forgotten were standing there. Let them look, he thinks, as Shiro tugs Keith’s bottom lip between his own, as Keith slips the barest hint of tongue into Shiro’s mouth and tries not to let his knees give out. This has been a long time coming.  
  
  
They eventually draw back, faces bright and red and happy, and Shiro lets out an embarrassed cough as he remembers they have an audience. “As you were,” he orders the crew in a feigned authoritative voice. He waits for them to retake their seats and turn back to the window before he nudges his forehead against Keith’s in an echo of the gesture in the medbay. “I love you,” he tells him simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world and not the thing they’ve both been holding back from each other for far too long. Keith feels a lump rise in his throat.

“I love you too,” he says. Maybe it really is that easy.

Shiro smiles softly and squeezes Keith’s hands before taking one step back, then another, back to the console. “Alright everyone,” he announces to the room, “we’ve still got time to meet our scheduled arrival. Plot a path to Bazram.”

Keith takes his place a few feet away, a permanent spot by Shiro’s side. He breathes in deep and feels the potential crackle in the air. The fear of losing Shiro to rejection, or to a lifetime in Slav’s body, are both gone. All that remains is them and the future that yawns out in front of them, for both of them, together, like an old promise fulfilled.

He’ll just never tell Shiro that Slav is the better kisser.  


End file.
